


So Close Enough To Touch (But Not Close Enough To Feel)

by reneedanis



Series: We're My Favourite Mosaic [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, CRYING IN THE CLUB, Clarke is a good friend, Drunk Bellamy, Drunkenness, F/M, Feelings, Heartache, Heartbreak, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Love, Pain, Post-Break Up, Raven is a good friend, Sad, This Is Fine, Why Did I Write This?, all of us are Lost, at least 3 feelings, definitely broken up tho, everythings Fine, im fine, lingering feelings, miller is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reneedanis/pseuds/reneedanis
Summary: Miller asks Clarke to pick up drunk!Bellamy from the pub but he leaves his heart on her passenger seat.





	So Close Enough To Touch (But Not Close Enough To Feel)

Having the soles of her shoes stuck the floor of a pub bathroom wasn’t exactly how she’d planned for this evening to go. But here she was no less, watching Bellamy puke his guts out into the toilet for the third time in succession. His curls matted around his forehead as he hung off the toilet seat, legs slumped around the base.

 

“Well, I’ve seen him worse.” Clarke muttered quietly to Miller who snorts in response.

 

“What’s up Bellamy?” she says, trying her hardest to keep her voice casual, airy, a wave of nonchalance. She catches Miller’s fingers tightening on the neck of his beer bottle as Bellamy’s head thuds against the plastic seat but he makes no move to shift his best friend off the floor.

 

The fluorescent light above the toilet stall spasms quickly and Clarke feels her heart do the same thing. It’s the first time she’s seen him in person in weeks and he isn’t even conscious enough to even see her. It kind of feelings like cheating in some twisted way, but it’s a game that neither of them is winning.

 

“Uh you know just hanging out” he drools, there’s saliva all down the side of his mouth and chin, his voice is distorted by the toilet bowl around his head. “Being a youth as it were you know Friday night out on the town getting totally fucked if you will just-“

“I think everyone here gets it dude.” Miller replies, bordering on monotone.

 

With what looks like a great effort Bellamy turns his head to look suspiciously over his shoulder at the pair standing side by side against the basin. Millers’ arms are crossed firmly over his chest. Clarke notices the way Bellamy’s eyes flicker around her face before looking her up and down. It makes her feel warm under his gaze and she wants to shift slightly to the left out of his line of sight. Instead, she raises one eyebrow in question at him.

 

“Fuck.” he whispers, making Clarke snort as she watches his face fall back into the toilet.

 

“He wouldn’t stand up just kept calling for you, none of us knew what to do anymore, I’m sorry we shouldn’t have-.” a voice mutters beside her. Right, Miller, Miller is here too.

 

“No no it’s fine you should’ve. God he’s such a mess how did he get this drunk.”

 

She can see the muscles in his back tense in his hunched position, sees the way his fingers unclench from their fists at the sound of her voice. It makes her want to run her fingers through the damp curls at the base of his skull until she remembers that she can’t, not anymore. The thought makes her jolt.

 

“I’m not even that drunk.” He slurs indignantly, cheek pressed flat against the seat.

“Ran away from the group and started slamming tequila shots from what Gina told me.” There’s a heaviness to the air that Bellamy doesn’t notice. The way Clarke pulls her shoulder blades tighter together and lets out a heavy exhale.

 

“She’s just on shift she didn’t come out with-“ Miller starts backtracking

 

“Right.” Clarke says, pointed “Come on drunky are you gonna puke anymore or are we good to go?” Her tone is clipped. Whatever good natured humour was here before is replaced quickly with the need to get moving and get the fuck out of here. Forget this night and maybe crack open some booze of her own, she deserves it for coming down here to start.

 

“Oi oi trynn- take m- hom- ae you…” pours out of Bellamy’s mouth.

 

She can’t help herself as she crouches down beside him wary of touching anything that isn’t his skin. His face is flushed but not a way that’s concerning beyond his drunkenness. She brushes the hair out of his eyes, it’s longer and curlier than the last time she saw him, unkempt the way she likes it best. It spills out over his head like his thoughts are causing static around him.

 

Clarke can hear his breathing start to get progressively harder and reaches out to place her hands on his chest, right up under shirt like she has a thousand times before when she remembers that she can’t.

 

Her hands twitch as they hover over his face. His eyes are glassy but he’s staring right at her in a way that’s so unnervingly familiar and warm that she looses control again, cups his jaw in her hands and lets her thumbs stroke against the tension there. She feels his hand on her waist before she even noticed he’d reached for her. It makes her jump in surprise and she can feel her skin explode into goosebumps under his palm. There’s a part of her breathing that settles from being able to feel his hands on her again. She releases a miniscule smile at him, watches the lazy one that stretches over his face as his eyes slide shut. Her back is to Miller as he calls her back to reality by clearing his throat.

 

“Bell, honey you need to help me out here.” She whispers, cheeks reddening from the accidental endearment. The lazy smile stays in place as he hums at her in response.

 

“Nuh uh nope no sleeping until we get you in the car.” She says tersely.

 

“But am so tired baby I’m so tired my legs don’t work can’t we just go to bed here.” She laughs quietly, exhaling more than anything else. If she didn’t she thinks she might cry.

 

“Work with me here and then you can sleep okay? But only if you walk out of here.”

 

“Will you sleep with me?” His voice is shaky. He won’t look her in the eyes, suddenly very interested in her eyebrows. The picture imagine of a schoolboy trying to get away with something they shouldn’t. He was always so good at being a prince in king’s clothing.

 

“I’m not going unless you’re going to stay with me.” His voice is so sure she can feel them on her skin; she knows he means it, wants it to be real. She can hear the way he knows that it’s not anymore.

 

She sighs around his name as if the weight of it is too much. There’s too much trepidation, she doesn’t like how it feels in her mouth. “Let’s get off the floor first.”

 

He clambers to his feet, miraculously not damaging any property on the journey up. Clarke positions herself under his left arm hooking her right around his waist. She means to support him more but he’s dead weight against her side, barely lifting his feet off the floor. His fingers are tight on her wrist, firmly holding onto her pulse point. She doesn’t let herself think why.

 

There’s a long moment of struggling before she feels a warm hand try and card through the hair on the top of her head. Clarke lets out a wave of disgruntled air. “Bellamy now is not the time to be patting me when I’m trying to heave your ass out of this place.” she bites at him.

 

“But babe your hair is so pretty look at how pretty your hair is and you as well you’re so pretty.” She narrows her eyes at him ignoring whatever drivel comes out of his mouth ducking to dodge his hands. She’s whipping her head around in avoidance.  


“Enough of that look wave goodbye to your friends.” she says, voice straining from the effort of trying to keep him vertical.

 

“I could just fireman carry him out here at this point.” Miller drawls from behind them.

 

Raven snorts from the booth where everyone is sitting. Their patchwork family hides their smirks at Bellamy half-heartedly behind their glasses.

 

“Weak, having to be dragged out of here already Blake, your tolerance has gone to shit. Hey Clarke.”

 

Clarke nods her head at the booth and lets Miller take Bellamy off her shoulders, eyebrows raised when he literally slings him over his right shoulder. She thinks Monty’s mouth drops open slightly before Jasper taps his chin making him snap it shut again. She can’t help but smirk.

 

“Let’s get this loser home.” He says easily despite having a literal grown man hoisted over his shoulder.

 

Raven insists on getting pictures before Miller carries Bellamy through the threshold towards the carpark. Clarke leaves the booth with an awkward two finger wave when Raven grabs her hands and pulls her close to her face; their noses are practically touching.

 

“We are your friends too Clarke, forever, don’t forget it.” Her tone is serious and her eyes are locked with Clarke’s. It’s a bit too personal for her right now and she can feel her heart banging against her ribs, is that healthy. She’s suddenly so exhausted. She shifts her eyes to the ground.

 

“Yeah I know.” She mutters, as Raven tightens her grip on her fingers.

 

“I need you to know that, we’re a family no matter what. Besides” Her mouth twists into her shark grin “we all said that we would be better than our parents relationships. You and Blake splitting is just another version of weird parental shit we get to unpack.”

 

Clarke looks down at their now intertwined fingers and smiles with only the right side of her mouth before meeting Raven’s eyes.

 

“You lot need all the character development you can get.”

 

Raven smiles wide, all teeth before dropping Clarke’s hand.

 

“Go take care of Mr Drunky. I’ll call you later.”

 

Clarke says her goodbyes properly this time before hurrying out the door, pulling her arms around herself tightly begging her heart to get a grip.

 

When she rounds the corner she finds Bellamy parked on the concrete outside the her passenger door with a very bored looking Miller leaning against the car beside him. It’s almost comical how childish Bellamy looks, legs kicked out in front of him as they wait for her.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Clarke breathes in a hurry.

 

Miller smirks at her in that knowing way he does and grabs Bellamy by the biceps while she unlocks the door. He dumps his best friend rather unceremoniously into the passenger seat, leaving Bellamy to get his limbs situated like a baby giraffe. Miller watches unimpressed, a single eyebrow raised with Clarke next to him, her head tilted to the right in observation.

 

“And to think, he’s shaping the minds of the future of this country.” Miller states dryly, as Bellamy smacks himself in the head with his fist from his fidgeting.

 

“Eh I still feel like they could do worse.” She hears Miller snort.

 

His hand comes down heavy on her shoulder; they’re still both facing forward under the premise of watching the drunken misfit wiggling in her passenger seat.

 

“I know you’ve been trying to keep some distance because you think that it’s going to be weird between you and everyone and it probably will be for a little bit. But there’s no blame game here, no one’s going to pick between you two and even if they did that isn’t to say that you would wind up with no one.”

 

Clarke keeps her eyes trained forwards, knows better than to try and argue. Miller may be Bellamy’s best friend but he’s known her longer, is like family in a different way. He’s got years of experience to go off, has been there to see her mess up and get up.

 

“Don’t push us out. We’re here for both of you. The guys all miss” he pauses for a beat “I miss you.”

 

She nudges her elbow into his side. “So dramatic.”

 

He nudges her back, turns his body so he’s looking directly at her giving her his full attention. “You’re not the bad guy here, you don’t have to play the martyr or try and elevate the pain for everyone else. We want to be there for you, you just have to let us.”

 

There are people that think that Nathan Miller is just some jacked dude that doesn’t talk to people because he thinks he’s better than everyone else. They don’t see the boy that knows verses of poetry by heart, that leaves metaphors on the backs of old receipts for Monty to read, that knows everyone’s coffee orders and favourite colours. The guy that always gets you a card on your birthday and remembers your name on the first try. The kind of guy who watches and listens. But Clarke knows that guy, she grew up without being able to hide parts of herself away because Miller would always see them.

 

She blinks her eyes hastily. “I hate you.” She mutters, with absolutely no heat before leaning into Millers hand still heavy on her shoulder.

 

He rolls his eyes at her, nudges her with his elbow again for good measure. She thinks he’s the closest she’ll ever have to a sibling.

 

“I’ll see you later.” he says, with nothing but confidence in her, knows she’s not one to hold out on her friends.

 

“Text me when he’s home! Tell him I’m disappointed in him” he shouts over his shoulder. Grins disarmingly before disappearing back inside.

 

Clarke climbs into the driver’s side of the car and winds down the passenger window before shifting into drive.

 

“If you vomit in here I’m going to be really pissed at you.” She says turning out of the parking lot. Receiving a groan from Bellamy in response.

 

The car is quiet, the song from her phone is too low to be heard properly, and she’s paranoid something of theirs will play. She can hear Bellamy breathing heavily and evenly from beside her.

 

“Why did you come get me?” His voice is less slurred now but his eyes are still a little too glassy for her to take him seriously.

 

“Because Miller asked me to.”

 

It’s not really a lie. When Raven called her demanding she come out for drinks she already knew she wasn’t going. It’s too soon for her to pretend it’s okay, that she’s okay. And she loves her friends, she does, they’re her family but she also can’t lie to them. So she’s been staying away pulling out of plans last minute, lurking in group chats, maintaining snap chat streaks when she has to but laying relatively low.

 

She stays away so she can think about exactly what she wants to say, so she can have all her answers and feelings and thoughts prepared. She puts up the fences she’s very familiar with and locks all of the locks on her front door, even the ones that stick. She only buys one kind of wine and plays the same three songs on repeat, her phone on do not disturb. She looks at photos and tries to move clothes out of drawers and art off the walls. How do you sort out the cutlery you’ve shared? Is she supposed to give him back his lentils that are just sitting in her pantry waiting for him?

 

She doesn’t want to paint Bellamy as a villain, as the guy that broke her heart. But he is right now, and he did and she doesn’t want her friends to think less of him because of it. She doesn’t want them to think less of her for thinking of him so much.

 

The lines are too overlapped right now she feels like she’s underwater trying to pull at anything solid but it’s all salt water and she can’t get her feet under her body enough to break the surface.

 

She’s glad Miller called her. She’d do almost anything for Bellamy; she doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They were friends first and more later. Throw an old jumper on over some leggings and drive makeup free to a local bar and pick up her drunk ex because he won’t stop asking for her – you bet. Because she still loves him, she doesn’t know how not to at this point and that’s where everything gets so fucking tricky.

 

Bellamy groans and rolls away from her, head lolling against the doorframe.

 

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” His voice is pointed, dripping with attitude. Her hands clench around the steering wheel as she reminds herself he’s just drunk.

 

“If I really didn’t want to come then I wouldn’t be here would I?” She snarls back.

 

The car falls silent again, the sound of wind rushing over them the only noise. She chances a glance at Bellamy to see he’s more upright now, looking more aware of himself than half an hour ago.

 

“I’m sorry.” He says, eyes glassy in a different way this time. His voice is rough like a gravel road; his face is a windscreen that’s been beaten by stones and cracked wide open.

 

“Bellamy.” She starts warningly. She doesn’t want to do this now, doesn’t want to hear whatever it is he’s trying to say when he’s like this because it’ll ruin it. She’s built a nice wall around herself that isn’t ready to come down yet.

 

“I am, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaking now and he’s looking into any streetlight he can trying to stop the wetness in his eyes.

 

“Bellamy don’t do this now not like this.” Her voice is marble.

 

He turns to face her, opens and closes his mouth a few times before she pulls over to the side of the road sharply.

 

“This is your stop.” She breathes, puts the car in park and cuts the engine.

 

Bellamy spins his head lazily to look outside to see his apartment complex. He clears his throat, opens his mouth again when he turns to look at her. She moves her gaze to the windscreen as soon as his body reaches her, pretends she wasn’t just staring a hole through the back of his head. She wants to see through his eyes – not for the first time.

 

“I know you don’t want to hear it and it’s selfish of me but I need to say it I need you to know.” His voice is shaky and uncertain and she hates it so much, with every fibre of her being. He’s never unsure with her, they were always completely certain of each other, the one major constant in each other’s lives and she’s just so angry.

 

“I love you so much I always have and I always will there is not a part of me that doesn’t love a part of you. But I hurt you and I don’t deserve to love those parts of you anymore I don’t deserve to be around you or see you or touch you. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I was selfish and jealous and dumb and I don’t- I don’t want you to forgive me for it.”

 

Clarke’s eyes are full of tears and she’s looking at him and frowning. Her heart is slamming against her ribs so hard she’s surprised he can’t hear it in her tiny car.

 

“Enough.” She whispers, gathers the courage she needs to meet his gaze, holds it all in shaking hands.

 

“Yes you did hurt me, I’m not going to pretend that you didn’t but if neither of us forgive you then we’re going to keep going in these circles and I can’t do that. Bellamy we’ve both lost too much to loose each other too. I’m not willing to just let you out of my life because of this but I can’t be the person that helps you through it. You have to talk to someone else. I’m trying to sort through all the things I’m feeling and I can’t do that if I have to worry about how it’s going to make you feel. But you do deserve forgiveness, I just can’t give it to you yet.”

 

She takes a deep breath, feels it in all the parts of her body from the second she stops talking. For a second she thinks the car’s still on, making the car vibrate but it’s her own hands shaking in the streetlight and everything about this moment sucks.

 

“It’s unfair of you to put your absolution on me. I’m allowed to be angry and hurt by you and you have to let me be.”

 

Bellamy’s jaw ticks, she can see his clenched teeth from across the console. He sniffs, takes a deep breath before facing her fully.

 

His eyes are still shiny, and there’s a shake to his hands she doesn’t like but he still smells like a bar toilet floor and there’s a flush to his cheeks that isn’t normally there. So she turns her body around, turns the car back on, grateful for the rush of noise.

 

“Go sleep this off I’ll talk to you later.” she mutters, her mouth barely moving.

 

It takes him a moment to get moving before placing his hand on the door handle and almost falling out of the car. He hesitates before leaning back in through the open window.

 

“I don’t want you to love me anymore.” he whispers.

 

Clarke’s throat clenches and unclenches so much she wonders if her voice will ever sound the same. His voice is so broken, all cold edges like broken ice. The breath that escapes her is heavy and cuts all along her windpipe.

 

“Go inside Bell.” she whispers back.

 

She can’t say it, even if he needs to hear it. She can’t say it now just because he needs it. Because she won’t mean it how he wants her to, and she’s not ready to say goodbye to the way she loves him. So she doesn’t say it, and he turns around shoulders so heavy with the guilt and shame he slung himself and walks up the few stairs to the door.

 

She waits with the engine running until he’s fully inside before driving away, her heart three times smaller and tighter in her chest than it was earlier this evening.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im not good at writing im sorry but imma do it anyways, you're welcome to throw hands just now i'll throw them back 
> 
> also im drunk rn but i will still fight u sober 
> 
> i dont mean to be aggressive but im a scorpio so what are u gonna do u know lmao 
> 
> but ty for reading !! i genuinely appreciate it i hope it didn't hurt you too much w how bad it was !! :)


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